


Tomorrow

by runawaygypsy



Category: Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Cheating, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, cuteness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-23
Updated: 2015-03-23
Packaged: 2018-03-19 07:29:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3601500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runawaygypsy/pseuds/runawaygypsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Andie is having bad luck in love when a letter written to her favorite actor and a chance meeting with him leads to more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tomorrow

Dear Tom, 

I know you don't know me, but I'm a huge fan. This is the first time I've ever written a fan letter, so, here's hoping you read it with a nice shot of … something. I'm fairly certain it will be far more awkward to read than I am intending while writing it. 

Anyhow, my name is Andrea, everyone calls me Andie and I am actually the same age as you, give or take a few months. I'd love to tell you more about myself, but the real reason I'm writing this is to tell you something that I will most likely never get the chance to tell you in person. 

You see, I am a writer. Or I would like to be. For several years, I've had writer's block and, let me tell you, for someone who enjoys putting pen to page, that's near death. All of that ended last winter when I had the pleasure of meeting you after seeing your performance in Coriolanus. Before that, I was a casual fan, I appreciated your work on screen, but you were so commanding of that role, it was so incredibly visceral and made me forget I was watching you. After that, I admit, I Googled you and now, well, everything about you has inspired me. My writer's block is completely gone and I have hopes of getting a small anthology of short stories published soon. I have included a copy of one of my shorter works and I hope you enjoy it. 

I know you probably, don't remember me from that night, but it doesn't matter. I just wanted to say Thank You for being the man that you are. 

Sincerely,   
Andie 

She sat there staring at the words she had written on the page, hoping that he would be able to decipher her handwriting. She'd been told her script was nice, but now, in her nervousness, the loops and dips looked like a bit much. With a sigh, she decided to stop obsessing on it and send it away, already. The envelope was addressed, postage carefully placed. The letter was folded, the envelope flap licked, the letter ready to go. At the last minute, she decided to include a small photo before sealing it shut. 

“Andie, are you coming?” came the yell from downstairs. She was supposed to go out with friends to dinner and maybe a movie, but she'd made them promise to stop at the post office on the way out. 

She grabbed her coat from the hook near the door. “In a minute,” she yelled back before turning the light off and heading down. Once the letter was in the post, she knew she would breathe easier, but, for now, she was nearly as nervous as if she was handing it to him in person. 

* 

THREE MONTHS LATER 

 

“I can't believe you'd do this now,” Andie cried. “After everything I've done for you?” She stared incredulously at David, her boyfriend of five years as he hauled his worldly belongings in a backpack out of her flat. 

David shook his head. “Andie, I love you, but I'm not in love with you,” he sighed. “Surely, you understand that.” He opened the door and stepped over the threshold. “You can't have been shocked at this, anyhow.” 

The anger welled up in her and she picked up a vase from the table by which she was standing. Holding it up, she screamed, “Susan was my fucking friend and you... you had to go and fuck her!” She nearly spit the words out as her grip on the crystal loosened and the vase went crashing into the door frame near his head. “Get out of my flat you asshole!” The moment he gave her the final look of hatred and left, slamming the door in his wake, she regretted the decision and fought the compulsion to run out after him. But it was too late, she knew that. It had been evident in the way he'd treated her in the last three weeks, how his eyes had ceased meeting hers, the way he'd become distant, the coldness with which he regarded her, almost like she was less than a human to him, though he still proclaimed to love her. Until she found out that he'd been sleeping with one of her closest friends, an affair that had begun with one drunken escapade a month before. She'd found out about it initially, had forgiven him because he told her it was a one-time thing and it would never happen again and that he regretted it. This revelation had been the last straw. She'd been dumb enough to forgive the first one, she wasn't about to forgive the rest. God knows if Susan was even the first. 

With a sigh, she leaned against the wall and sank to the floor, her body wracked with sobs of loss, her heart feeling like a husk, entirely empty, drained of anything and everything. Where's a good man when you need him? She asked herself. 

Her phone was in her pocket and poked against her hip. Pulling it out, she rounded off a group text to the remaining three she had. “David and I are kaput,” she typed. She knew they would know what it meant. As her text app left the screen, she stared a her phone wallpaper. “Why can't more men be like you, Tom?” she asked, her voice echoing through the empty flat. 

* 

FOUR WEEKS LATER 

Andie sat in the club, in the corner, by herself, dateless, unlike her friends. She felt like the unlucky rabbit with the missing foot, hobbling through her own life. All her writing had turned to sad poetry and stories of tragic lovers. Being out and about, even though it was nearly a month since she'd said goodbye to David, was challenging to say the least. It seemed everyone but she was having fun. “I'm leaving,” she said, leaning over to her friend Danielle as she canoodled with her date in the corner. “This is too depressing.” 

“Alright,” Danielle answered, “I'll tell the others when they come back.” She slid some money across the table to Andie. “Here, do yourself a favor and call a cab.” 

Andie shook her head. “It's not far,” she shrugged. “I'll walk.” She thought the quiet and the night air would do better for her mental state than sitting in a stuffy, smelly car with an overly-talkative cabbie. 

“Suit yourself.” Danielle's attention turned back to her date as Andie left, weaving through the club between people dancing and drinking and cavorting like her world hadn't crashed down. 

The night was cool, but not overly cold. Still, she wrapped her coat around herself just a little bit more as the wind began to pick up. Her steps echoed along the sidewalks, loudly enough that she was hopeful they would frighten any would-be attackers, not that she was afraid herself; she carried a vial of pepper spray on her keys and had it in her pocket, ready to grab at a moment's notice. 

Three blocks in and nearly seven more until she was home, Andie began to regret her decision, but it was too late. She sucked it up and continued walking, passing more people, most of them ignoring her, cavorting with whomever they were with. She didn't care to look at them, instead, she tucked into herself and kept walking, ignoring them, until she heard a pair of footfalls behind her. She picked up her pace and the feet behind her did as well. Finally, she stopped, freezing in her tracks. “I have pepper spray,” she warned. “I'll scream if you touch me.” 

He chuckled and it was familiar, a soft “Ehehehe.” “I'd hope you wouldn't,” he said softly. She recognized his voice, that timbre, that cadence, the velvet deepness. It was him. 

Andie lifted her head and glanced over her shoulder. “Do I know you?” she asked breathlessly. 

“I should hope so,” he answered. “We met last winter and...” he hesitated a moment. “I believe you sent me a letter.” She half expected him to come closer, to lay his hand on her shoulder, but he didn't, preferring instead to keep his distance. “Would you turn around so I can see you?” 

Slowly, she turned, afraid that, were she to turn to quickly, he'd prove to be a hallucination and disappear, leaving her standing alone on the street. As she came around, though, he was still there, clad in jeans, black shoes and a black quilted jacket. “Tom?” she said hesitantly. 

“That's what they call me,” he grinned. “You're Andie, aren't you?” 

"Yes," she finally smiled. "Yes, I am." 

He held his hand out toward her, like he was going to shake her hand, but when she reached and took it, he pulled her closer. "Do you mind?" he asked, waiting patiently for her shocked nod before embracing her in a full-on hug. 

"You're a bit of a hugger, aren't you?" she laughed, her voice partially muffled by his shoulder. Even though they were, for all intents and purposes, strangers, she felt comfortable in his arms. He smelled like spice and tea. 

As he released her, he blushed. "Yeah, I guess I am." Reaching into his pocket, he pulled her letter out and unfolded it. She could tell by the indents of the creases, by the way he took great cares to unfold it without ripping anything that he'd read and re-read the letter several times. He glanced down to the paper, then his eyes flicked back up to hers. "I have to admit, most of the time I get letters that gush about how great I am and, honestly, even though they claim that, I'm just a man. Yours intrigued me." 

Andie felt like the breath had been forced out of her. "Did you know I would be here?" she asked, sure that her voice was barely audible. It felt surreal to be standing here with him on a lonely, London street. 

"Actually, I was on my way to meet a friend and realized I was near your flat," he answered. "There was a little bit of hope that you'd be home, but I had turned around when I realized it was a Saturday night and you probably had a date." 

She shook her head. "I was out with some friends, but no date." 

He reached up, his hand rested gently on his shoulder, his fingers absently playing with a tendril of her hair. "A pretty girl like you with no date?" he scowled. "It's a travesty." 

"Bad breakup," she shrugged. When it looked like she was going to be pressed for more details, she smirked uncomfortably and added, "He cheated, I lost a friend, it's old news." 

"Oh, I'm so sorry," he groaned. "I've been there, done that and even years later, it still stings." His face was so genuinely concerned that she couldn't help but cup it softly with her hand for a moment. 

"It's only been a month," she sighed sadly. "I'm trying to just move on, but, sometimes, it's incredibly hard." 

Tom nodded. A gust of wind flipped the pages in his hand, reminding him of why he seeked her out in the first place. Holding them up, he said, "You have so much talent. These words really moved me." 

It was Andie's turn to blush. "Thanks," she replied, "But, like I said in the letter, you helped inspire them." She stuck her hands in her coat pockets, feeling the temperature drop as goosebumps began to creep their way across her body. 

He saw her shiver. "Would you like to go somewhere a bit warmer?" he asked. Andie nodded and motioned for him to follow her. She intended on going to a coffee shop a block away from where they stood, hoping that it would still be open. 

They chatted as they walked, Tom asking her about her other works, the subjects she wrote about, how she managed to get them done so beautifully and seemed as intrigued with her as he was with her answers. For each gust of wind that blew an errant hair in her face, his fingers caught and replaced it. She welcomed his touch, still wondering if she was dreaming and afraid that she would wake up alone in her bed at home. 

Luckily, the coffee shop was open. Andie picked out a seat while Tom ordered them teas and biscuits. He carried their order to the table on a tray and set it down in front of her before sitting down next to her. They sipped their teas in silence, but it was anything but awkward. She let her attention wander, her eyes drinking in the details in anticipation of writing this wonderful dream down when she finally woke up, but, occasionally, she would sweep past Tom and find him watching her curiously. Finally, he broke the silence. "You really are observant, aren't you?" he smiled. 

Andie drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly through puffed lips. "If this is a dream," she whispered, "I want to remember all of it." 

"It's not a dream," he smiled. "It's completely real." The way he looked at her, she wanted desperately for it to be true. 

"I need proof," she announced. "Pinch me." 

Tom laughed. "I'm not going to pinch you." 

"Fine, I'll pinch myself," she retorted as she shimmied off her coat, held a bare forearm in front of him and began to pull up the skin. "Ouch!" 

"See, not a dream," he grinned. "Shall I find a way to prove it to you, otherwise?" 

"Okay." She was apprehensive and felt a tightness encircle her chest as he leaned close to her and kissed her cheek with a gentle sweep of his lips. "How does that prove it?" she asked, turning her face toward his and challenging him with her eyes. 

His hand left the table and ran up her arm, brushing past her shoulder, cupping the back of her neck as he pulled her into a gentle kiss. "Is that better?" he asked her with a mischievous smile. She nodded, breathless. 

As they sat there, eyes locked, they were interrupted by the ring of Tom's cell phone. "I'm sorry," he grimaced. "It's the friend I was going to meet." Andie nodded and he pulled the phone from his pocket, answering it with a, "This is Tom." She listened to his half of the conversation, not wanting to intrude, but catching little bits and pieces as he explained his tardiness and apologized. Finally, he ended the call with, "I'll see you tomorrow, then." 

"Is everything alright?" she asked, worried that he'd be upset because she'd delayed him, even though it was really his own fault. 

Tom smiled. "It's perfect," he answered. "Can I walk you home?" 

"Yeah," she nodded. 

They left the coffee shop, hand in hand, conversing about anything and everything, until they reached Andie's building. "This is me," she said, stopping at the concrete steps. "I'd ask you to come up, but I'm afraid it's a horrible mess." 

The church tower that wasn't far away clanged midnight. Over the din, Tom yelled, "That's alright, it's getting a bit late." Once the noise stopped, he asked, "Can I get your number? I'd like to ask you out on a real date, if that's alright." 

Andie smiled. "Give me your phone." He handed it over and she punched in her number, then called her own phone. "There, now you've got it." 

As she tucked her own phone back into her pocket, he swept her into his arms again, kissing her with more heat, more passion than before. She let out a soft moan, her entire body becoming weightless in his arms. "I'll call you in the morning," he said softly. 

Andie smiled. "Not if I call you first," she said with a wink that made him laugh as he let go of her. 

"Touche," he said, rewarding her with his own wink. "Tomorrow, then." 

She sighed. "Tomorrow." She leaned against the door frame, a contented look on her face as she watched him walk away. Perhaps it wasn't a dream. She'd have to figure it out tomorrow.


End file.
